Why Do We Have To Sacrifice Everything, Dad?
by weirdmixofsodapopanddallas
Summary: Dean is 17, Sam is 13. Dean meets a girl who seems too good to be true, and even though his dad warns him off her, he keeps seeing her anyway. It's not like anything bad is actually going to happen to anybody involved... AU
1. Do You Believe

_Author's note: Hello, everybody. Now, before you start yelling at me, I swear, I haven't abandoned Lost In Paradise. I know it's been a month, but school's been a mess and I've hit a rather unfortunate wall of writer's block on that story. I know where I want it to go, and we're getting close to the end, but I'm just not quite sure how to get there. Please be patient with me, I am trying._

 _In the meantime, I'm trying my hand at Supernatural. I just barely got around to watching the show, and this is the first fic I've written for SPN, so please, no flames. I would love any feedback you have to make it better, though._

 _Keep in mind that this is completely AU. I know it doesn't technically make any sense or even follow all of the laws of the show, but I was reading this ghost story, and the idea for this fic popped into my head, and I just couldn't help myself. All it is is a quick little two-shot. Please enjoy!_

 **Disclaimer: Supernatural is not mine**

 _ **Chapter 1: Do You Believe**_

Here they were again. Another move, another town, another hunt.

Seventeen-year-old Dean Winchester wasn't particularly happy to be there. Claryville was a small town, and small towns just weren't his thing. People were always either too friendly, which he found annoying, or too hostile, which just pissed him off. And they all knew each other already, had since birth, so they were all set in their cliques. Not to mention every chick worth looking at already had a boyfriend.

City kids did it right. Welcoming enough, but not in a way that made Dean wonder if they were all what his father had come here to hunt. And there was always a girl or two whose attention he could catch.

All-in-all, in Dean's opinion, small towns _**sucked**_.

There was one thing, though, that made Claryville more interesting than all the other little places Dean had visited. When Dean's father, John, was a teenager, he'd had cousins who'd lived there, so he'd come visit. He knew the town and some of the people in it well. At least Dean wasn't a completely random stranger here. He was still a stranger, still a _**little**_ random, but not completely, which was something. And something was better than nothing.

Dean's little brother, Sam, was happy. He liked small towns better than cities. He had a thing for that nine-to-five, white picket fence feel that they had, and he loved it when the people were so welcoming. He was still so trusting, and while Dean cherished that about his little brother, it also terrified him. A little suspicion was a good thing. Dean knew that, had since he was four.

But then he forgot. The minute he saw Jamie.

 **XxXxX**

It was a pretty average night. Dean and Sam had been living in a little rented house for about a month now, their father rarely there. This hunt was trickier than he thought it would be, and he didn't want Dean and Sam involved in it. Sam was at home right then, doing his homework. Dean had taken the Impala and gone to see a movie.

It was raining hard by the time Dean was on his way home. He didn't mind. He liked rain. It provided good cover for any sounds you might make and made it harder to see you. What else could a guy want out of life?

Then he saw her, and realized there was a _**whole lot**_ more.

He slammed on the breaks next to her. She was a slight little brunette in a sparkling, deep purple tank top and jeans. She was just sitting on a bench outside the library in the pouring rain, her glossy black heels next to her instead of on her feet. There was something ethereal, almost otherworldly, about her.

Dean had seen a lot of weird things - you didn't grow up a hunter and not see weird things - but this was one of the few things that actually struck him as truly strange.

Not knowing what else to do, he rolled down the window and called to her. "Hey! You need a ride?"

She stared, and for a second, Dean was scared he'd done something wrong. For some reason, he wanted this girl to like him. But then she smiled, a smile that lit up her whole face, jumped up, grabbed her shoes, and dashed barefoot over to the passenger side.

Yep. Dean had done the right thing.

Once she'd shut the door, Dean slipped off his jacket and draped it around her soaked shoulders. She just looked so cold, and he couldn't stand it. The jacket nearly swallowed her, but at least she'd be warm.

The girl smiled even more brightly, sliding her arms into the sleeves and clutching the jacket close. "Thank you."

"Anytime." She was even cuter up close. Dean could see the color of her eyes now, light blue, and the faint smattering of freckles across her cheeks and the bridge of her nose, just like his own.

Needing something to say before he stared to long and made her uncomfortable, Dean said, "I'm Dean. Dean Winchester."

"Jamie. Jamie Lewis."

"Well, where to, Jamie?"

"Home, I guess."

"Y'know, an address would be useful."

"I'll just tell you where to turn. I don't even remember my address anyway. I've never had to tell anyone what it is."

That brought Dean crashing back to Earth. Of course. Small towns. Jamie probably already had a boyfriend. Hell, she was probably already engaged. "Right, sorry. Let's go." He started the car and continued down the road.

Jamie turned to look at him sharply, noticing the change in his tone. "Are you okay?"

Dean wished she wouldn't be concerned. It made her seem even prettier and even more like a porcelain doll than before.

"I'm fine." he said, fighting to keep his voice neutral. "Just think I oughta get you home quick before your boyfriend sees us and gets mad." This was Dean's favorite way to find out if someone was single or not. It compliments them, because it made it seem like he couldn't imagine a girl like that not being taken already. Got him started off in a good place.

Though, to be fair, he didn't feel like he was in a good place right now. He didn't like the idea of Jamie already having a boyfriend. He'd just have to act like he didn't care.

Unfortunately - or fortunately, depending on how you wanted to look at it - Jamie saw right through him. Her smile was kind as she said, "I don't have a boyfriend. I haven't for a long time."

If Dean had thought about it, he would have realized that was a weird way for a teenage girl to talk, but he was too busy being happy that Jamie didn't have a boyfriend to notice. He smiled and glanced sideways at her. "Am I supposed to take that as an invitation?"

Jamie smiled at him sweetly again. She seemed to do that a lot. "We'll see. Turn left."

Dean nodded slowly, pulling onto the next street. The whole situation was better than he'd thought it was a minute ago, and that was good enough for him, at least right now.

"So," Jamie said, "I haven't ever seen you before. Are you new, or just visiting someone?"

Another reason Dean preferred city kids: they weren't so damn nosey, and didn't know everyone around them, so they didn't notice if you hadn't ever been around before. But for some reason, with Jamie, he didn't mind. "We're new, I guess. But we probably won't be here very long."

"Why not?" Jamie actually sounded genuinely sad at the idea he'd be gone soon.

Dean didn't know why he felt like answering her honestly. There was just something about her. "We're never anywhere very long. We skip from place-to-place a lot."

"It's this little blue house right here."

Dean pulled up to the curb and Jamie got out. Before he was even sure what he was doing, he said, "D'you wanna go out Friday night?"

Jamie paused, startled, then smiled. "I'd love to. I'll meet you at the bench where you picked me up at seven."

She started to pull off Dean's jacket, but he put a hand on her arm to stop her. "Keep it. It looks better on you than it does on me anyhow."

With another smile, she leaned in and quickly kissed Dean's cheek, then turned and ran in the house, waving goodbye as she went.

 **XxXxX**

Dean waited nervously on the bench outside the library for Jamie. It was seven, Friday, but there was no sign of her yet. Was she even coming? He wouldn't blame her if she didn't. But she'd seemed to genuinely like him, and he couldn't help hoping she'd come all the same.

The only problem with it all was that Dean couldn't help feeling incredibly selfish. Sure, he'd been with plenty of girls, but most of them had been at least halfway okay with Dean disappearing mysteriously after a few weeks of hot and heavy romance. Jamie didn't seem like the kind of girl who would be okay with it. She seemed like a strictly serious, long term relationship type, the type that would be hurt by someone dating as casually as Dean usually did and then leaving. But Dean liked her enough that he was here anyway. And that was exactly why he felt selfish.

"Hi, Dean." Jamie almost seemed to just appear in front of him. She was still wearing his jacket.

Dean felt another pang of guilt. Telling a girl she could keep your jacket was practically asking her to go steady, and her wearing it instead of her own was a yes

Oh well. There was no going back. Dean stood up. "Hi, Jamie."

 **XxXxX**

Dean snuck into the bedroom, careful not to wake Sam, and flopped down on the bed. This was the first time he had been so happy with a date that hadn't ended in sex.

All of his previous relationships had been so emotionless that he hadn't really be aware that there was such a thing as feeling something for the chick that wasn't a result of his sex drive. But there was, and it was a nice thing to find out. He'd always felt so shallow before, like there should be a deeper meaning to all this stuff, and now he knew that there was.

Though, to be fair, Jamie seemed to just bring a deeper meaning to everything, no matter what was going on.

Oh well. Whatever the reason, Dean liked this feeling, and he was going to sit here and enjoy it for a while…

Sam stirred and turned his face in Dean's direction. He moaned quietly, breathing a little harder. His nightmares. Unconsciously, Sam reached his hand out towards Dean's bed. "Dean." he mumbled.

Resigned to spending another night with his arm lifted, Dean reached out and gently grabbed his little brother's hand.

Sam immediately relaxed, even smiled a little, some part of him always reassured by Dean, even asleep.

Dean sighed and closed his eyes. Basically being a parent was hard.

 **XxXxX**

Dean was woken up the next morning by the sound of his father clattering around in the kitchen. He was glad John was home. Even though Sam was still mostly Dean's responsibility, things seemed different. Better.

Safer.

Dean glanced over at Sam. His brother was still sleeping, his fingers entwined with Dean's. How they managed to keep their hands locked tight when they were asleep was something Dean had never been able to puzzle out, so he'd quit trying. He knew Sam and him were closer than most brothers. He chalked it up to that.

The bedroom door opened and John Winchester stepped in. Dean immediately sat up, paying complete attention. Like a good little soldier.

"Dean," John said, with a hint of disapproval in his voice that never seemed to leave, "What're you boys still doing in bed? Shouldn't you be getting Sam ready for school?"

"It's Saturday." Dean said.

John nodded towards Sam and Dean's clasped hands. "And isn't he getting a little too old for that?"

"He was-"

"Doesn't matter, Dean. I have to go soon, but I've got to clean the guns first. Get out here and help so it won't take so long."

Dean gently disentangled his and Sam's hands and followed John out.

They'd been working on the guns for a good ten minutes before John spoke. "You look kinda strange, Dean. Is everything okay?"

Dean smiled. He was in a better mood than he'd been in for months. Figures his father would notice something different. "Yeah, I'm great."

John obviously found Dean's smile unnerving, which just made Dean smile more. It was a great day to be alive. John stared at Dean for another second, then experimentally said, "Christo."

Dean started laughing. "I'm not possessed." Had he really been that unhappy lately?

An understanding look came over John's face. "A girl. Pretty?"

Dean nodded.

"Good in bed?"

"We actually haven't done that yet."

"Not that I'm not happy about that, but what's got you smiling if you haven't done that yet?"

"I dunno. There's just… somethin' about her." Dean glanced back up at John and paused. He actually looked scared

"Dean…" John sounded like he knew Dean wasn't gonna be a fan of what was about to come out of his mouth. "Maybe you shouldn't see her again."

 **XxXxX**

Dean didn't listen to what his father said. For nine months, the longest they'd ever stayed in one place - John was having a lot of trouble with this hunt - Dean spent every minute he wasn't helping his dad or taking care of Sam with Jamie. He never had to go to her house to find her, she always found him. It was like all he had to do was start wondering where he could find her and there she would be. Always clutching Dean's jacket around her like it was the most precious thing ever created. Always looking at Dean like he was God's gift to this world.

And Dean found himself looking at her the same way. He'd never felt like this before, but he knew what it was. He was hopelessly, desperately, in love.

 **XxXxX**

It was the middle of the night. Dean had snuck out of the house to be with Jamie. It was Dean's 18th birthday, and she'd said the best present she could think of was to show him the constellations, something he'd never paid a particularly large amount of attention to. So now they were lying barefoot and cuddled together on the side of the hill just outside of town, happy and content despite the freezing January air. Dean absently stroked Jamie's hair with one hand and held her with the other.

"Happy 18th birthday, Dean." she whispered.

"Thanks, Jamie." He couldn't remember ever feeling so happy in his life.

"Dean," Jamie said softly, "can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"You've told me about Sam, and you've told me about your father, but what happened to your mother?"

Dean tensed. "She was killed when I was four." he said shortly.

"What happened?"

Dean was ready to feed her the lie his father had taught him from day one, the lie he and Sam had told so many people, but for some reason, he didn't have it in himself to lie to Jamie.

"Do you believe in the supernatural?"

 **XxXxX**

When Dean got home that night, he felt like he was walking on air. Jamie had believe him without question, hadn't laughed at him or called him insane. She'd shown him nothing but love and support, something he wasn't all that used to. He was used to giving it, not getting it. He was starting to think he wanted to spend the rest of his life with this girl.

He opened the front door to find John packing their belongings. He'd seen this too many times not to know what it meant. He went cold all over with panic.

"Dean," his father said, barely glancing up at him. "Get your stuff packed. We're leaving first thing in the morning: this hunt's taken too damn long." He didn't seem to notice or care that his oldest son was wandering home at three o'clock in the morning.

"No."

The word, and the meaning behind it, was so against everything Dean had ever said or done when it came to his father that for a second, he was shocked that it'd actually come out of his mouth.

John was just as surprised, turning slowly to face his son. "What did you say?"

Dean gathered what little courage he felt he had and stood his ground. "I said no. I'm staying."

"You can't just-"

"I'm eighteen; I can do what I want."

"You're not eighteen yet. Your birthday's not until…" John trailed off, a look of horror coming over his face. "Your birthday was today?"

Dean glanced at the clock. "Technically yesterday, since midnight happened a few hours ago."

John paused for a second, then said very cautiously, "Dean, I'm sorry I forgot your birthday. You've made your point. We'll get a beer or something as soon as we're out of here. Now will you please go pack?"

Dean shook his head. "This isn't just about you forgetting my birthday. It's not like it's the first time. I'm staying here."

Anger, fear, and pain all flashed across John's face before he arranged it into a calm mask. "Then why, Dean?"

Dean bit his lip for a second. He'd kept his relationship with Jamie a complete secret from both his father and Sam, something he was actually kind of proud of. But it wasn't like he could just waltz off without any explanation. "Jamie. I'm in love with Jamie."

John was completely nonplussed. "Jamie? Who's Jamie?" Then a wave of understanding seemed to wash over him. "She's that girl you mentioned months ago. I told you not to keep seeing her."

"I don't care." Dean did care. It'd been a hard decision for him to make, one that went against almost everything he'd ever done, but he couldn't bring himself to admit it. He was too proud.

"Dean, this isn't you. You're a hunter. Not-"

"And whose choice was that?"

That shut John up.

"I can make my own choices now. And I'm choosing to stay here."

"If you stay here, you'll have to leave Sam."

"Kids are supposed to move out when they grow up, and their little brothers are supposed to stay. This is how it's supposed to be. Besides, I can still call, he can visit…"

Dean paused for a second. John had this look on his face like he'd gotten an idea, and that was never a good thing.

"It's not like I'll never see him again." If he was being perfectly honest, Dean wasn't sure who he was trying to convince, John or himself.

"What if I cut you off from Sam?" When John got an idea, it was never a good thing.

And Dean definitely hadn't seen it coming. "What - what d'you mean?"

John had that look on his face, the one people get when they think they're the most brilliant person in the world, but you're still an idiot for falling for it. "I mean exactly what I said. No phone calls, no letters, no visits, no anything. If you leave now, you don't get to see Sam at all."

Dean gaped at John. He'd known his father wouldn't like what he'd decided to do, but he never thought John would take it this far.

John simply smiled at Dean. He thought he had him. And for a second, Dean thought he did too. Dean couldn't leave Sam with just John. John didn't understand Sam, and he definitely wasn't good with kids. Or people in general, really. At least if they could talk on the phone Sam could call him if something wasn't right, and Dean could fix it. But if that wasn't even an option, Dean couldn't just go. Dean knew what he had to do. "I guess I could…"

Jamie… his beautiful little Jamie…

And then the answer came to him. Something utterly insane. Maybe if he threatened to do it, John would back down. Just like bluffing in poker. "Then I'll sue you for custody."

"You'll what?"

"Sue you for custody. I'll win, and you know it. All I need to do is tell them about how I raised Sammy, not you."

If looks could kill, Dean would be dead. Then John forced his face into a smile and said, "Do I at least get to see a picture of this girl you intend to leave me for?"

Dean didn't see how it could hurt, so he pulled a picture of him and Jamie at the pond out of his wallet. It'd been warm that day. Dean had been wearing just a t-shirt, but Jamie had still been clutching Dean's jacket around her. No matter how warm it got outside, she was always cold without it.

John stared at the picture in complete shock for a second before he managed to find his voice. "What did you say her name was again? Her full name?"

"Jamie Lewis."

"Where did you meet her?"

"Outside the library. It was raining, and she didn't have a way to get home."

"So you gave her a ride." John seemed to be half talking to himself, too busy thinking to really acknowledge Dean's presence.

Dean set his jaw stubbornly. "So?"

John gave Dean back his picture. "Dean, please go to bed. I've got one more thing to do tonight. We'll talk about this more in the morning."

Dean nodded tersely and left to his room. It was a start. He waited fifteen minutes after John left before he wrote Sam a note, left it on the kitchen table, and climbed out the bedroom window. He needed to talk to Jamie. This was serious.

 ** _Author's after thought: Like I said, no flames please, but constructive criticism is completely welcome. PLEASE REVIEW_**


	2. Love and Sorrow

_Author's note: Hello again! I was going to post this tomorrow, but I got way better response than I thought I would for the first chapter, so I thought I'd be kind and finish it now. I've got an orthodontist appointment tomorrow anyhow since I busted my retainer (oops) so heaven knows if I would've been able to do it then either. But whatever. Enough about me. Enjoy!_

 **Disclaimer: Supernatural is in no way mine**

 ** _Chapter 2: Love and Sorrow_**

Dean knocked on Jamie's front door with absolutely no idea what to expect. As insane as it was, he had never been inside her house or met anyone in her family. What if they didn't like him? They had no reason to. It wasn't like he was good enough for Jamie in any way.

The door was opened by an old woman who smiled at Dean sweetly. "How may I help you, dear?"

"I'm looking for Jamie?"

The woman's mouth opened slightly in shock, then she said, "Maybe you'd better come in, darling. What's your name?"

"Dean."

The lady sat him down on her couch. "Well then, Dean, please wait here a second."

Man, this wasn't normal. Where was Jamie? What was going on? The lady was too old to be Jamie's mom. Her grandma, maybe?

A second later, the lady was back, a heavy, framed photograph with her. She sat down and handed it to Dean. "Is this who you're talking about?"

Dean studied the picture. "Yeah." It was Jamie in a sparkly purple dress. "Can I talk to her?"

"Honey, let me tell you a little story."

Well shit. That never meant anything good.

"Jamie was asked out on a date to a party. She went to wait on a bench outside the library. It was raining."

Dean's mind felt blank. He'd been willing to throw away everything he'd ever known, at the very least he'd already completely destroyed the something vaguely resembling a relationship he'd had with his dad, and Jamie was cheating? _**His**_ Jamie? He was too out of it to acknowledge that it didn't all fit. Or that this old lady was awake at four in the morning.

"Her date never came. She started to walk home, but she was hit by a car and killed."

Dean just blinked. No. It couldn't be true. He'd know if Jamie'd been killed. He'd've _**felt**_ it.

The lady reached out and gently put a hand on his knee. "Dean, that was twenty years ago."

 **XxXxX**

It took John a little while to find Jamie Lewis's grave, but he got there in the end. He took his shovel and started digging.

John had known Jamie when she was alive, had been at her funeral when she died, but as much as he'd liked her, no ghost was going to toy with Dean. Not his son.

"John."

John paused and looked up. Jamie had materialized next to her grave. He surreptitiously nudged the salt circle he'd placed there closed. She wasn't getting out of there. "Jamie."

"What're you doing?" She sounded for all the world like a terrified eighteen-year-old girl. He would've felt a little sympathy for her if it weren't for Dean's jacket still wrapped around her shoulders. He'd wondered where that'd gone.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" He went back to his digging.

"John - please-" Jamie started forward, but suddenly stopped. She stared down at the salt circle, then up at John in horror.

John stopped digging and grinned at her. "You might've been a decent girl, Jamie, but no ghost gets to mess with my son. Dean's got enough to deal with as it is." He turned back to his digging.

"John, you have to understand that I love Dean. I would never hurt him, not for anything. I know I'm a ghost and you have a hard time being okay with this, since you're a hunter, but that doesn't change that I love Dean and Dean loves me."

"Does he know you're a ghost?" John asked.

Jamie was silent for a second, then in a very small voice said, "No."

"Then you're lying to him and using him, and I'm not okay with that."

"John, please. Think about what you're doing. Dean's not gonna be okay with this."

"Once he knows you're a ghost, he's gonna be just fine with it. He'll thank me for doing this, and he'll come with me when I leave tomorrow."

"You're trying to make him leave when he doesn't want to?" Jamie was actually crying. John told himself it was because she was afraid. These were not tears for Dean. "Oh John, you're trying to make him leave when he doesn't want to? Haven't you done enough to him? He's a boy, not your own personal soldier!"

"You're old enough to be his mother! And you're dead! And you're trying to take him away from me!"

"It's not taking if he wants to go, John. Dean wants to be here with me. Why can't you just let him be happy?"

John glared at Jamie. "Why Dean, huh? You could've had one of the other boys around town."

"He's the only one who's ever looked at me and _**seen**_ me, John! Dean's the first person to be kind to me and care about me in twenty years! Your boy's special whether you like it or not, and he's made his decision. If you respect Dean at all, John, you need to respect that."

"Jamie, he's not going to be young and beautiful forever." John had never been a good judge of whether or not other men were attractive, but he could tell by the way girls would try and count Dean's freckles and stare, transfixed, at his eyes and lips and shoulders that his son was an incredibly good looking person. "He'll get old and die, and you'll always be an eighteen-year-old ghost. What happens when he's forty and you lose interest in him? What then, huh?"

"Those things don't matter, John! I don't love Dean's body, I love his soul!"

"Don't you even talk about that!" If there was one thing John would always guard jealously, it was his boy's soul. It was already damaged enough as it was. Dean didn't deserve any more. "It's not like it belongs to you!"

"We belong to each other, don't you get it?! It's not that hard to understand." Jamie dropped to her knees and carved 'Winchester' over her last name so that the gravestone read 'Jamie Winchester' instead of 'Jamie Lewis'.

"This is how it's supposed to be!" Jamie sobbed from the ground as John finally broke open her coffin and poured salt and lighter fluid over her body. "Dean and I belong together, and you can't change that! I love him!"

John lit a match and held it over the grave.

Suddenly, a scream came from behind him. "DAD, DON'T!"

John closed his eyes briefly at the agony in his son's voice, then dropped the match.

 **XxXxX**

Dean had been searching through the surprisingly large cemetery for a while, looking for Jamie's headstone. Proof that what the old lady had said was true.

He was starting to think it wasn't there to find - something perfectly okay with him - when he heard voices. Wondering what somebody could possibly be doing in a cemetery at this time of night, he followed them. And what he saw when he got there made his blood run cold.

"DAD, DON'T!" Dean screamed, running forward, but he wasn't fast enough.

John dropped the match into the grave.

"NO!" Dean lunged towards Jamie, who locked eyes with him one last time before winking out of existence, a look in her eyes that spoke of love and sorrow.

John caught Dean around the waist and threw him back, away from the headstone and onto the ground.

For a second, Dean stared in horrified shock at the place Jamie had been, the fire in the grave dwindling to nothingness. Another person he loved more than life itself lost to its burning blaze. First one tear, then more, began to make their way down Dean's face. "You son of a bitch! How could you?!"

"It's for your own good." John was so calm, and Dean was about ready to go ballistic because of it. He shouldn't be so calm. Not after how thoroughly he'd just ruined everything.

"Bullshit." Dean gripped the grass tightly in his fists, wanting to belt John across the face, but knowing how badly that would probably end.

"Drop it, Dean." John turned to leave, cold and callous, like what he'd just done meant absolutely nothing.

And Dean snapped. He jumped up, grabbed John's shoulder, spun him around, and punched him in the jaw.

For a second, all that existed was stunned silence and the enormity of what they'd both done that night. Then they jumped on each other, both intending to make the other beg, neither intending to stop.

Dean hadn't eaten much in the last week, too busy making sure Sam got enough, so he was tired and slower than usual. And that was what screwed him over. He honestly probably could've given John a run for his money if he were at the top of his game.

As it was, the whole thing quickly turned from a 'fight' to a one-sided 'let's see how many times we can kick Dean while he's on the ground before he passes out-fest'. At first, Dean tried to put a stop to it, but that wasn't working, so eventually he just wrapped his arms around his stomach to try and lessen the strength of the blows. And the kicks just kept coming.

"Dad…" Dean whispered.

And John paused. Breathing heavily, he backed up a couple steps. "You come on back to the house when you're ready to be obedient." He turned and stalked off.

Dean wasn't angry at John for beating him bloody. He deserved it. He'd been disobedient, he'd talked back, he'd fought, and he'd thrown the first punch. Even just one of those things was enough to justify this beating. With all those together, he deserved it four times as much.

Dean knew he should get up and go home. John would be expecting him to be there to pack and help Sam do the same.

But when Dean shifted just a little, blinding pain tore up his side. He barely had time to give a little gasp before he lost consciousness.

 **XxXxX**

Castiel searched the graveyard for a young Dean.

See, Dean had told Cas about this night after he had a dream - excuse me, screaming nightmare - about it. Cas was furious, to say the least, and while he couldn't save the ghost girl, since there were some things in time that just shouldn't be messed with, there was one thing he could do.

He searched for hours, refusing to give up on Dean and just leave him here, until finally he found what he came for.

He knelt next to the boy who was lying, beaten and bloody, on the ground. There was an open grave nearby, the smoldering remains of a body still visible. That must've been Jamie's grave. Castiel couldn't see any reason why John would have issues with this particular spirit. She was kind and had never hurt anyone. It wasn't like she would've done anything to Dean. Honestly, sometimes Cas wished he could just smite that man.

"Well, this is unfortunate." Cas muttered. With a sigh, he slipped one arm under Dean's back and the other under his knees and gently lifted him up, cradling him like a baby. He would heal Dean after he got him home. He wanted John Winchester to see the damage he'd caused. He wanted to see guilt on that man's face.

 **XxXxX**

Castiel kneed the door to the house three times, since his hands were too occupied to knock. A couple seconds later, John Winchester opened the door.

"Dean, you-" He froze. After a second's tense silence, he said, "Who are you and what are you doing with my son?"

"I'm an angel of the Lord. And I believe I have something that belongs to you." Cas looked down at Dean pointedly.

John glared at Cas for a second before he stepped back grudgingly and allowed him to bring Dean in. The angel gently laid Dean out on the couch.

"Why's he such a mess?" John asked gruffly. It was pretty clear by the look on his face that in the dark cemetery he hadn't been able to see the extent of the damage he'd done.

Cas gave him this 'are you freaking kidding me?' look. "Because of you, John."

John was frozen in shock for a second, then his expression hardened. "He punched me first."

"Don't even try to pretend that was a fair fight." When Cas was done, he was _**done**_. "He's tired and starving and grieving, and every single one of those things is your fault. He's a person, not a robot." Turning away from John before he had a chance to answer, Cas laid a gentle hand on Dean's forehead.

John took a step forward. "Don't you-"

Cas didn't know what John assumed he was doing, but he just healed Dean's injuries and took his hand away.

John stared at his son in shock. "You… how did you…"

The angel smiled, but it was a cold smile. A smile that promised destruction if Cas ever saw John again. "I told you. I'm an angel of the Lord."

 **XxXxX**

"Dean? Why're you on the couch?"

Dean stirred and opened his eyes. Sam was standing next to the couch looking down at him in confusion.

Dean paused. Why _**was**_ he on the couch? "I… I dunno." He sat up slowly, looking around. The last thing he remembered was passing out at the cemetery.

The cemetery… Jamie…

"Dean? Are you okay?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"You look like you wanna cry."

"I-"

"Sam." John came out of his room. "Can you give Dean and me a minute?"

Sam looked concerned, but did as he was told.

John didn't say a word about what happened in the graveyard. He didn't explain why Dean was in good condition now when the last thing Dean remembered was being so battered he passed out when he tried to move. He simply said, "Are you coming with us or not?"

As much as Dean hated it, he knew what his answer had to be. "I'm coming. But for Sam, not for you." Never for him. Ever again.

 **EIGHT YEARS LATER**

Dean didn't know why he'd come back here. His dad was missing, and he was on his way to go get Sam. He should've been just driving it straight and moving on with his life. But with Claryville basically along the way, he couldn't help himself.

Dean wandered through the cemetery, remembering. It'd been eight years since what'd happened here, and it still hurt just as bad as it had then. He'd never gotten past it, never been quite able to forgive John. Even though they'd been careful to behave exactly the same towards each other as before and Sam hadn't noticed any difference, something was broken between them that could never be fixed.

Dean had never loved anyone else that much again. Sam had encouraged other relationships, but none of them had ever become anything. He'd never gotten that feeling like the one he'd gotten with Jamie. It was like the part that felt that had died inside him. Jamie had taken it with her.

"Dean." It was the old lady from Jamie's house that Dean had figured out by now was her mother. Based on the direction she'd come from, she was on her way back from visiting Jamie's grave.

"Hey, Mrs. Lewis."

"My goodness, it's been a while. What are you doing back here?"

"Passing through. I can't believe you remember me."

"It would be hard to forget a boy like you. The look on your face when I told you about Jamie. And you're so beautiful. And you… well, you still look like you're carrying the weight of the world, and you feel like you deserve to be. You don't forget when you see someone who carries themself that way."

Dean stared at Mrs. Lewis. Nobody ever talked to him that way. Hell, nobody talked to _**anyone**_ that way.

Smiling, Mrs. Lewis patted his shoulder and left. Slightly dazed, Dean kept going.

He wasn't carrying the weight of the world. The weight of his life, sure. The weight of his family. His memories. All the people he had to save from all the nightmares out there. All the people he hadn't been able to. All the people he'd never be able to.

Okay, never mind. Weight of the world wasn't a horrible way to describe it.

Dean was so lost in thought that he didn't even realize he'd gotten to Jamie's grave until he was right in front of it. And what he saw made him stop and stare.

The grave looked a lot like he'd left it. 'Winchester' was still carved over 'Lewis', it was still a plain grey stone. The hole had obviously been filled back in, but there was only one real difference.

His jacket, the one he'd given Jamie, the one she'd been wearing when his father had dropped that match and taken her away, was hung over the right-hand side of the headstone.

Dean crouched, slowly reached out his hand, and touched it. He wasn't seeing things. It was real. How? From what he'd seen that night, the jacket had disappeared along with Jamie. How could it possibly be here now?

He gently lifted it off the grave and stood. What was he supposed to do? This seemed like a sign of some kind, but he didn't understand what it was a sign of. It wasn't like Jamie could ever come back to him. Salt and burn meant that she was gone. As gone as it was humanly possible to be. Maybe the universe was just taking pity on him and giving him back some small piece of the girl he loved.

After half an hour of just standing there clutching the jacket, Dean headed back to the Impala and hid it at the bottom of the trunk. He couldn't leave it behind, but he couldn't really handle looking at it. The trunk was a good place for those kinds of things.

He threw one last glance towards where Jamie's grave was, even though he couldn't see it anymore. "I love you so much." he whispered, then climbed in the Impala and drove away.

Dean never went back there. He had no reason to. But he never forgot his Jamie. The first girl he'd loved. Beautiful, sweet Jamie who'd looked at him like he was God's gift to this world.

The first person since his mom died, other than Sam, who'd ever made him feel like he was actually worth something.

 ** _Author's afterthought: Ta-Da! I hope that endings all good with everybody. I wasn't originally intending to include Cas, but I just couldn't help myself. While Dean's my favorite, I love my baby in a trench coat._**

 ** _PLEASE REVIEW! PLEASE! I'M BEGGING YOU!_**

 ** _Okay, too needy. Shutting up now._**


End file.
